


Week 7: Corvus / The Raven

by DramioneLDWS



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:41:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26740783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DramioneLDWS/pseuds/DramioneLDWS
Summary: Each chapter is an individual drabble written by a single participant.IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT: Due to the potential for heavy themes/triggering content, please pay attention to every individual drabble's trigger warnings. If you feel uncomfortable reading an entry, please notify an admin. If you are not comfortable notifying an admin, you are not obligated to read triggering content.Please mind the tags/triggers at the top of each entry.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 64
Kudos: 50
Collections: Dramione Last Drabble Writer Standing - Round 2





	1. Arcane Omen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Arcane Omen  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 500  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [Misdemeanor1331](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misdemeanor1331/pseuds/Misdemeanor1331)

1ST PLACE   


Hermione put little stock in tasseomancy. She read the symbols in her morning tea not as a predictor of what her day might hold, but instead as a smug reminder of coincidence. Cups that read struggle preceded easy days as often as difficult ones. Cups of good fortune could leave her crying and reaching for a bottle at the day’s end. 

Cups that read illness and death were _de rigueur_. As a St. Mungo’s Healer, there was little doubt of those. 

As a ritual, it reminded her that there were some things magic couldn’t foresee. Unknowable events could still remain in her control and under her influence. Their outcomes depended on her alone: a combination of skill, knowledge, and pattern recognition, applied judiciously after a half a lifetime of experience. 

But one spring morning, a raven appeared, black and bold in the dregs. The ill omen foretold bad news and death. It sent a shiver crawling down her spine.

The leaves did not change how she performed her job, but when Scorpius Malfoy was admitted to her ward, she remembered it. 

The boy lay motionless. A butterfly pulse trembled at his pale wrist, and shallow breath barely lifted his chest. His father, distraught, sat bedside, elbows on knees, head sunk against interlaced hands. 

Draco looked up when she entered, his terror washing away into something like gratitude. He drew a cloth-wrapped item from thin air. 

“I found him with this.” 

Hermione unfolded a green apple, a child-sized bite torn from its flesh. 

“I tried a bezoar,” he continued. “I didn’t know… I didn’t know where else to go.” 

She placed a hand on his shoulder. He shuddered at her touch, and Hermione felt an empathetic wave. She and Ron had separated, but Astoria had died during labor. By all accounts, Draco had done the best he could as a single father. But this—waiting, helpless, as his son drifted closer to the veil between worlds—was more than could be borne alone. 

He covered her hand with his, curled his fingers around hers, and squeezed. A silent show of gratitude in the face of marrow-deep fear. 

“He’s stable,” she said. “The Junior Healers will notify us if anything changes.” 

Normally, she would suggest he go home, try to rest. But the bright, fever-shine that glazed his grey eyes and his drawn, haunted expression, made clear the futility of that suggestion. Instead, she chose a different path. 

“I need to analyze this if I’m to brew an antidote. Come with me to the lab. It might help you…”

Forget? Impossible. 

Cope? Perhaps. 

It was then that Hermione remembered a third, arcane reading for a raven sitting amongst the leaves. It was a harbinger of transition; of endings that led to new beginnings, the change hurried by hardship and made memorable by strife. 

The feeling of surety Hermione had been missing all day suddenly returned. 

She was going to save Scorpius. If she persisted, maybe she could heal the broken man before her, too.


	2. Morrígan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Morrígan  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 500  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [iwasbotwp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwasbotwp/pseuds/iwasbotwp)

Surveying the land from far above—riding thermals, soaring, diving—was something Hermione felt she may sooner get used to than the superstitions surrounding this unanticipated Animagus form. 

Malfoy Manor's vast estate had enchantments to keep unwelcome visitors out, leaving Voldemort and his followers cocky. Unfortunately for them, their host family had neglected to layer the wards in a way to stop Animagi from coming in by air.

The squalid camp, far from the regal house, held the tents of hundreds of Snatchers, werewolves, hags, and other lower-class followers.

Even in the dark of night, her flight hadn't gone unnoticed. A duo of witches pointed her way and, ironically, made the sign against evil. It was time to move on.

She dodged a poorly aimed spell as she flew towards the manor, where a candle in an upper window beckoned her. Having barely landed on the sill, she wasn’t prepared to defend herself as a hand swept up the sash.

“If you detest everyone comparing you to _her_ , you probably shouldn’t turn up at your enemy’s bedroom, looking to seduce him,” Malfoy drawled.

_"Morrígan."_

_She dug a claw into Harry's shoulder when a voice in the crowd whispered it._

_"Hermione," he hissed, the warning implicit._

_Relaxing her talons, she clicked her bill in apology. It wasn't his fault the rumors in their camp wouldn't cease._

_“They just want some hope,” Luna reminded her. The eccentric witch reached up and stroked one of Hermione’s wings. "We all do.”_

_Harry nodded. “Anything we can give them ahead of the next battle, to bolster their spirits, could lead to victory and the end we all want.”_

_Shaking off the touch intended to gentle her, she opened her wings and thrust her body forward, leaving behind her friends. Even to them, she’d become a tool, another advantage to use over the enemy._

_“Let her go,” she heard Luna counsel Harry, over the flapping of her wings._

_As if they could stop her._

Once safely inside, she allowed her bird self to remember what a human body felt like, until she was, in fact, human again.

“I think we’re past the seduction phase.” Without an invitation, she sat on a tufted chaise.

"That's too bad." He smirked. "I quite enjoyed that phase."

As had she. Their magic was...highly compatible. 

_"They think I'm a reincarnation, a goddess," she confessed._

_Malfoy stilled above her. "I'm no Cúchulainn."_

_"Do you believe in destiny?"_

_"I do. But not the sort you're talking about," he said, and resumed kissing her._

With the memory, her eyes flitted unwillingly to his bed. 

A dark chuckle fell from his lips. "It wouldn't be the first time we've mixed business and pleasure."

"Perhaps."

"What if I gave you something to convince Potter he can trust me? With the added bonus of proving once and for all you aren't Morrígan, but just a regular raven?"

She raised a brow.

"Ravens mate for life, you know," were his final words before he shifted into a large black bird.


	3. Nevermore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Nevermore  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 444  
> Warnings: Forced Obliviation
> 
> AUTHOR: [MykEsprit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MykEsprit/pseuds/MykEsprit)

2ND PLACE  


ADMIN CHOICE  


Now the bells are loudly tolling; all the guests are gently strolling.  
Pew by pew they fill the seats while I grip tightly at the door.  
With a muster I move quickly—hide behind a garland sickly  
Sweet with roses prickly just in time. The organ roars a chord.  
Petals, once so lively, tossed by clumsy fingers on the floor—  
Casualties of love and war.

Down the aisle she walks in splendour, with a look so warm and tender,  
Though her amorous glance is not for me but someone I abhor.  
Truth be told, he is a stranger, but the fact he’s marrying Granger  
Puts him in the line of danger of my heedless wrath and more.  
Wand in hand and magic ready, cocked for ruthless, senseless gore—  
Senseless, like the scars I wore.

Then she smiles; it’s my undoing. Foul intentions merely clewing  
As my anger, over-brewing, now is tempered to the core.  
Ten years passed, she’s still enthralling, and my mind is simply stalling,  
Though a hopeless thought is crawling, wondering if she’s found a cure.  
Memories and magic locked away, this, Severus Snape assured;  
Life at Hogwarts, all obscured.

Voldemort had murdered Potter. One by one, her friends were slaughtered.  
Somewhere in her mind, their shrieks might still be pounding at the door.  
When I found her, she was broken; not a single word she’d spoken  
‘Til one day, ‘twas like she’d woken, though not like she was before.  
Not the Granger, bright and beaming, just before the war—  
Shadow-self, or slightly more.

Though our fate seemed so appalling, ‘fore we knew it, we were falling—  
Loving, mad and reckless, whilst such danger lurked outside the door.  
While we basked in spirits heightened, truly I was frozen, frightened.  
“We should stop this now, tonight, and hide you somewhere, someplace far.  
Somewhere he can’t find you, ‘til I end this ceaseless war.”  
But my pleading, she ignored.

Driven by my growing panic, in the night I stumbled, manic,  
‘Til I crossed my mentor’s threshold, sinking as I did implore.  
“Hide her, please,” I begged him, kneeling. “Help me hatch a plan concealing  
Granger in the Muggle world, ‘cause ours is safe no more.”  
Wordless, Snape looked at me, dark eyes boring to my core.  
Nodded once, and said no more.

While she slept, we took her magic, memories of all things tragic,  
Filled her head with thoughts of love and happiness, of being cared for.  
Granger, loyal, never faltered; I’m the one whose plans had altered.  
I deserve this pretty altar picture in this church of yore.  
Witness love pour out her lips, a lifelong vow to Muggle bore.  
While she remembers nevermore.


	4. Arcane Omen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Patronus  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 499  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [persephone_stone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephone_stone/pseuds/persephone_stone)

“Alright, let’s try again.” Potter’s voice was patient as he nodded at Draco across the small back garden of Grimmauld Place. “Remember, think of a happy memory before you cast.”

Draco rolled his shoulders, attempting to shake off the disappointment of trying—and once again failing—to cast a Patronus. It was an important skill for an Auror to have, he knew, but most Aurors were not 1) former Death Eaters with 2) literal dark magic inked into their flesh and 3) inescapable memories of one’s home simultaneously being one’s prison, the jailer a homicidal maniac who threatened to murder one’s entire family if his commands weren’t immediately obeyed.

Nevertheless, he dug deep, determined not to embarrass himself in front of Potter. Not that the other wizard would mock or belittle him for his failures—Potter was _annoyingly_ kind, setting the tone for the rest of the Aurors—but due to his own deep-seated feelings of inadequacy when compared directly to his childhood nemesis.

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. His heart rate steadied, and he focused on his happiest memories, pushing everything else from his mind.

 _Her eyes,_ sparking with fond frustration as they argued over a bit of obscure knowledge in the breakroom at work.

 _Her hair,_ blowing gently in the breeze as they walked to lunch together, teasing him with the apple-vanilla scent of her curls.

 _Her laugh,_ sincere and surprisingly addictive, compelling him to go out of his way every day to make her laugh.

 _Her arms,_ wrapped around his shoulders as an apology wrenched itself from his chest, whispering her forgiveness while he trembled against her.

 _Her lips,_ soft and full and sweeter than anything he’d ever tasted.

 _Her hand,_ proudly holding his when she introduced him as her boyfriend for the very first time.

 _Her smile,_ warm and so beautiful, spreading across her face when he told her he loved her.

 _Her voice,_ telling him she loved him, too.

A warm feeling spread through Draco’s chest—happiness, affection, peace, love—and he opened his eyes. Lifting his wand, he spoke, voice clear and confident.

 _“Expecto Patronum!”_

Warm magic rushed through his body, starting in his chest, speeding down his arm, and bursting from the end of his wand with such force that he had to take a step back, steadying himself.

Above his head, soaring proudly in a circle, was a raven. Its glossy black wings and intelligent eyes were immediately recognizable, even in Patronus form.

Draco stared for a moment before turning to grin like an idiot at Potter. “I did it,” he said, voice hushed with awe.

“Not quite the white peacock I was expecting,” Potter said, shaking Draco’s hand. “But I reckon it’s appropriate. Ravens are bad-tempered birds, but incredibly devoted to the ones they love.” He smiled, eyes twinkling mischievously. “And they mate for life.”

Draco rolled his eyes, not bothering to take the bait. “See you at work tomorrow, you prat,” he called over his shoulder, heading to the Floo. To home. To _her._


	5. Scent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Scent  
> Rating: M  
> Word Count: 496  
> Warnings: Implied/Referenced Non-Con
> 
> AUTHOR: [LumosLyra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LumosLyra/pseuds/LumosLyra)

He shouldn’t want her, shouldn’t _crave _her__ , but gods, it was impossible not to.

With absolute clarity, he knew how each of her ringlets felt as they curled around his fingers. He knew the scent of her, from the sweet honeysuckle of her hair to the dark amber of her core. He knew the taste of her, the feel of her as she moved beneath him, _with him_. He craved her body, coveted her mind, and was completely and utterly committed to the one woman he should not, _could not_ have.

Draco swirled the amber-tinged alcohol around the glass, trying (and failing) to focus on the colour and smell the expensive bourbon lest he be caught staring at this own Thessalian princess, graceful and poised as she was, be subjected to the clunking, over-counted piss-poor attempt at a foxtrot. The dance was relatively standard in any pureblood’s repertoire but the bumbling fool _his_ Hermione had decided to marry couldn’t dance even if his shoes were charmed to complete the correct steps.

It was abhorrent.

He hid his sneer and turned his head away from the sight, ordering another from the bartender. He downed the last of his bourbon before removing a crested flask from the pocket of his suit, tipping it into the glass and inhaling his favourite scent.

Draco’s gaze followed Hermione as she moved across the parquet floors, slipping out of the ballroom and leaving her pig of a husband to commit avarice and gluttony at the buffet. He abandoned the empty glass at the bar, taking the full one with him as he followed her, lingering for a brief moment to speak to the Chief Warlock.

It took little time to find her.

“Good evening, Hermione,” he said, pressing the still-full glass into her hands. “Having a nice evening?”

“Hello, Malfoy. It’s been lovely so far, thank you.” She smiled up at him, taking a sip of the drink he’d handed her, her irises momentarily flashing pink. The glass wobbled in her hand but he steadied it, lifting up upwards for her to take another sip.

“I um, I don’t feel so well.”

She’d grown a bit pale and wan, but he insisted, a smile gracing his lips. “You’re light headed from dancing. Another drink will help.”

A pearlescent sheen covered the amber in her eyes at her next sip, and her mouth curved upwards into the sultry smile he loved, hand slipping between the buttons on his shirt to feel the warmth of his skin.

“There’s my girl.” He bent at the waist to capture her lips, tasting the _Amortentia_ laced bourbon on her lips.

_Jasmine. Parchment. Amber._

His hand curved over her rounded abdomen as he tugged her into a darkened room off of the hallway, intent on ravaging his Coronis before Apollo dragged himself away from the canapes and Draco had to steal yet another memory to add to his collection.

Four more months until his son would be born.


	6. Shift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Shift  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 499  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [MidnightValkyrie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightValkyrie/pseuds/MidnightValkyrie)

After a long day of renovations, Grimmauld Place was quiet at last. It was nearing midnight when Hermione finally got to sit down with a cup of tea. She’d taken approximately one sip before a frantic knocking sounded at the door.

Ire flared, but she tamped down on it quickly. It could only be one of a few people and they wouldn’t call on her at such a late hour unless the reason was exceedingly important or desperate. She hurried to the door and opened it.

There on her stoop in a downpour stood Draco Malfoy, draped in a cloak and holding a large covered parcel. She stood back, waving him in and drying everything with her wand as he crossed over into the foyer.

“What’s happened?” It wasn’t the first time Malfoy had shown up at her home with some sort of magical artefact that needed tending to immediately. She followed after him back into the sitting room.

He sat his cargo down on the coffee table, eying her. “Pulling an all-nighter?”

Her eyes rolled as she came closer, eyeing the covered item and freezing when she heard what sounded like the fluttering of feathers. “Draco, what’s under there?”

“So, you remember when I mentioned that we had a new spy?” 

She frowned. “Yes, you wouldn’t tell me anything about them.”

“Because I was literally unable to. After Voldemort, the DMLE came up with layers of security to ensure they weren’t taken advantage of for information. Again. My tongue would’ve glued itself to the roof of my mouth and only my superior could undo it.” He scowled at her.

“What does that have to do with this? I’d like to get to bed sooner rather than later. I did a lot of work today and I’m exhausted.”

He sighed and whipped the cover off of what turned out to be a cage with a large, disgruntled looking raven inside.

“A bird? So your department has taken to using animals?” She scrunched her nose as it silently cawed at her.

“In a sense…” He shoved his hands in his pockets.

She cut her eyes over to him. “Don’t tell me this is a person. An Animagus.”

“It is. And the only reason I’m able to tell you any of this is because it’s an emergency.” The raven hopped around inside and cawed silently again as its feathers puffed impatiently.

“What happened?” Her words were sharper now that she knew they were looking at a person.

“Apparently she got locked in her Animagus form and there’s nobody else I trust aside from you who may know how to get her back to normal.”

Hermione opened the door and the bird hopped out onto the table, watching her shrewdly. With a wave of her wand, a pale blue light surrounded it and a moment later she was face to face with a woman.

Pansy Parkinson wasted no time. “I know where Dolohov and the rest of the Death Eaters are hiding.”


	7. The Psychopomp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: The Psychopomp  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 498  
> Warnings: Major Character Death, themes of grief and loss
> 
> AUTHOR: [granger_danger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/granger_danger/pseuds/granger_danger)

3RD PLACE  


NIK’S POST-PETAL PICK  


When Draco came to, it was still dark. Or perhaps, almost dark. The dusty crossroads, the dusky moors — all was grey, dim, but suffused with either the promise or the memory of light.

Unsure where he was or how he’d gotten there, Draco checked his robes and was surprised to find his wand. Last he recalled, Potter had had it. 

Odd. 

In his left pocket, an apple and his Muggle cigarettes. Some parchment and a quill. 

In his secret pocket, a square of paper: Hermione’s neat script asking him to meet her at the library, the first of many notes. 

The last thing he remembered was a battle, a blinding flash of green light: not particularly encouraging. Yet, here he was, on this not-quite dark road, seemingly sound of body and mind, with his star-crossed lover’s words against his heart.

He sat and stretched his long limbs, savoring a cigarette, waiting for the light to grow or fade.

Surprisingly, it did neither, and time began to lose all of its hard edges.

Draco started walking north.

—

He heard the raven before he saw it, its enormous black wings a whisper of silence. Ebony against the grey not-night, it landed before him. Ruffling its feathers, it dropped a note at his feet. 

_Draco! Where are you? I’m dreadfully worried. Please send me word that you’re safe._

_Love, H_

Draco traced a thumb over the loops of her L. He sent the strange bird off with a reply. 

He ate his apple, tossing the core away. Yet when he patted his pocket, the apple was still somehow there.

At a loss, he continued north, compelled by he knew not what. 

—

At first, the raven came often. Draco kept Hermione’s letters. He kept walking. He kept eating the same apple and never grew hungry. 

The raven came less. When he examined her letters, he found blank parchment, her words gone. 

The last time the raven came, he sent his last love letter. 

After that, nothing. Everything gradually went black, or perhaps white. 

And then, Draco just wasn’t, which is to say, Draco just _was._

—

Alone in the Department of Mysteries after hours, Unspeakable Granger double-checked the wards. She unlatched her cypress box. Inside, dozens of small blank pages fluttered. 

The last time Hermione had seen Luna, little Lorcan had asked why she always had a raven on her shoulder.

There hadn’t, of course, been any raven she could perceive. But Hermione had developed a grudging respect for the world’s mysteries and the uncanniness of Lovegoods. 

She blinked hard as she stepped slowly towards the Veil, holding out one blank page until it brushed the heavy black curtain. She drew in a sharp breath when the words, inked in Draco’s elegant hand, faintly reappeared. 

_Hermione, my love—_

She ran her thumb over the loop of his L, then pawed rather uselessly at her wet eyes. She drew back the curtain just far enough. 

She let the letter go.


	8. The Ravens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: The Ravens  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 500  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [Torigingerfox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Torigingerfox/pseuds/Torigingerfox)

Hermione was reading the Daily Prophet when Harry unceremoniously entered her office followed by Malfoy, his Auror partner.

"Please put that newspaper away," he groaned looking at the front page. "I swear if I see one more article about those two bloody international thieves...”

"I take it there’s no breakthrough on the _Ravens_ case?"

Harry shook his head. "Only clues that _no one_ can decipher. Today we met with the Italian Aurors to collect their evidence, _a nightmare_ ".

"Language barriers?" 

"More like stupidity ones,” explained Malfoy, who’d been silent until then.

"Why? What happened?"

"They are fumbling around in the dark, Hermione. Not to mention how superstitious one of the Italian Aurors is. "

"Sorry, I’m confused,” she said. “What's superstition got to do with theft?"

"He’s convinced ravens are a bad omen.”

Hermione huffed. "Nonsense. In ancient Rome, ravens were symbols of power.”

"Go explain it to Balduzzi," replied Harry. 

“Well, he should very well know. Actually, did you know that in Italy, there’s even a cultural event where teams throw each other oranges to re-enact the city’s liberation from tyranny, and the Raven is the symbol of one of their most famous teams of orange-throwers?”

"Excuse me, did you just say they throw _oranges_ , Granger?" 

Hermione turned towards Malfoy. " _Yes_ , during the Battle of the _Oranges_. You'd probably hate it, it involves orange pulp and horse poo."

Malfoy wrinkled his nose. "Barbaric, and irrelevant to the case."

She rolled her eyes and turned towards her friend. “So, you’re here _because of_ the case, I reckon?"

"How _acute_ , Granger." 

Hermione was about to reply, but Harry interrupted her. " _Please_ , Hermione. Don't start with your bickering. We need your help, as Europe's leading expert on folklore and mythology."

Hermione nodded to continue.

"We’re looking for connections between these thieves, who as you know love to be called _The Ravens_ , and the pictures they willingly left us. For now, we just know they only steal magical artifacts of dubious provenance from European Pureblood families. Here.”

Hermione took the stack of pictures Harry was offering her. “Well, the White Raven is a reference to Apollo’s sacred bird. Ravens were white before Apollo scorched one during a fit of rage.”

“Could it hint to their physical appearance?”

“I highly doubt it, looks more metaphorical to me.”

Harry pointed to another picture. Two entwined ravens, looking at a carcass. “Will they eventually...kill?”

“They’re probably just telling you they’re a pair. Ravens work in pairs to gather food, hence the carcass. Such fascinating birds. Did you know they’re monogamous?”

“This will _surely_ help us solve the case, Granger.”

Hermione opened her mouth to retaliate. “No bickering!” admonished Harry. 

“Look, I have another meeting, you two go on without me. And _please_ , don’t kill each other while I’m gone.”

As soon as Harry left, Hermione locked the door and cast a silencing charm.

“I _told you_ the white raven could give us away, Draco.”

“Good thing we’ve been put in charge of finding ourselves then, Granger.”


	9. Watched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Watched  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 471  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [Tridogmom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tridogmom/pseuds/Tridogmom)

“Hermione,” Harry called through the tent flap.

Making her way outside, Hermione handed Harry a fresh cuppa and recast a warming charm around them. She tried not to think about the fact that it had been six weeks, three days, and eleven hours since their trio had become just two.

“What’s up, Harry?”

“Does that raven look familiar to you?”

“Should it?”

“I think it’s following us and I don’t like it. They’re bad omens, you know.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Only to crackpots like Trelawney. The Greeks believed they were the gods’ messengers. And Apollo used to send his to spy on his lovers.”

“You don’t think it’s an Animagus do you? Some Death Eater spying on us.” He lowered his voice. “Could be Snape. Same nose.”

Laughing, Hermione smacked Harry’s arm. “You’re horrible. I’m sure it’s just a standard raven, Harry.”

Harry tried to argue that it had to be a spy because he’d seen it every day for the last two weeks, but Hermione brushed his concerns off. There were no registered raven Animagi in Britain, and if it was a Death Eater, Voldemort would have come for them long before now. She did wish she had food to give it. The poor thing looked worse for wear, it’s feathers dull, and now that it was the end of December, food was scarce.

Vanishing the last of her tea, she filled her cup with clean water and stood, walking towards the bird. It didn’t move, just stared at her with intelligent eyes. They were lighter than she’d ever seen on a raven but were filled with warmth. Squatting down, she placed her cup on the ground in front of her. The bird looked from her to the cup before hopping forward to take a drink.

“Such a good bird,” she cooed.

Its head snapped up at the sound of her voice. Cocking its head to the side, it looked her over. Holding out her hand, she gasped as it made a jump to land on her arm. The raven croaked loudly before butting its head against her chin.

“I’m lonely too,” she whispered so Harry couldn’t hear.

The raven gave her one more nudge and a loud croak before flying off and her heart already missed its presence.

* * *

  
Draco forced himself to keep flying away. He needed to get back to the Manor—with the Yule celebrations, he’d be missed—but he didn’t want to. No one knew he was an Animagus. No one, not even him, knew he could find Hermione anywhere or why. No one knew he loved her. His heart ached to return to the tent, hold her in his arms. Instead, he flew home. Away from the one who unknowingly held his heart. But every day until he was back at Hogwarts, he’d return to her.


End file.
